


Life Debts and Other Auspicious Things

by herworship429



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Blatant Speculation, Gen, Probably Totally Wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-10 00:48:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7823707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herworship429/pseuds/herworship429
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knows what Gerrera thinks of him; that he is a pawn of High Command, a spineless intelligence officer, and a foolish idealist with no concept of real loss, to the Empire or anyone else. It isn’t true, but then Cassian doesn’t really think that Gerrera will ever believe a word he says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life Debts and Other Auspicious Things

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm new at AO3 and still trying to get the hang of posting and formatting and all that jazz, so I ask that you bear with me...
> 
> As for this fic, I am engaging in shameless and blatant speculation that is probably completely wrong, and thus not remotely canon (unless I turn out to be extraordinarily psychic or something). Nor do I in any shape or form own anything resembling the rights to Star Wars, I'm just playing around with it.

Rook had started it. Eager and impetuous, he hadn’t hesitated to tell the story of his defection from the Empire, of his harried escape in a stolen supply ship, of his first encounter with Gerrera and his Partisans, not when Erso asked for their stories. Of course, Andor strongly suspected that she’d already heard this story, and Baze and Chirrut’s besides; that she had really only asked because she wanted his.

     “Well?” she asked after a long, silent moment when Rook had finally shut up, “What about you, Captain?”

The others, who had been on the verge of drifting out of the room, stopped suddenly and returned to their seats, watching him with interest. The question appeared to have peaked even Gerrera’s interest, which was probably the first time the old man had given the rebel captain more than a passing, contemptuous glance since their arrival on Jedha. He knew what Gerrera thought of him; that he was a pawn of High Command, a spineless intelligence officer who did not have the courage or fortitude to throw himself into a suicide mission, that he was a foolish idealist with no concept of real loss, to the Empire or to anyone else…

     ( _It isn’t true, but then, he doesn’t really think Gerrera will ever believe a word he says._ )

     “Not much to tell,” Cassian said finally, one shoulder lifting in what he hoped looked like a careless shrug, “Someone died. The Empire was the cause. They need to be stopped, and I can help do that.”

Someone died. That was an understatement, if ever there was one. He could still remember it as if it had happened yesterday: the smell of smoke, and sweat, and burnt plassteel. The sun beating down on his face. He could still hear the shouting of the crowd. His mother’s pleaded demands, for justice that would never come. His sisters sobbing as the stormtroopers dragged them away.

     ( _He never has been able to find them, and he hates himself for that._ )

He could still see his father’s face as he recognized Cassian in the crowd; how his eyes had widened, his head moving in a silent gesture for ‘no’.

     ( _No, don’t try and save us. No, you must think of yourself now. No, don’t throw your life away. No, don’t let our sacrifices be in vain._ )

He liked to think he had carried out his father’s final wishes, even if that moment had haunted his dreams and nightmares every day since. Sixteen years old, a fugitive from the Empire, on the run from bounty hunters and Imperial agents alike… it was not a time in his life he liked to dwell on. They’d given up after a few standard months, probably under the impression that a frightened, grief-stricken boy would pose them no threat.

     ( _They are wrong._ )

His greatest fear still loomed, though; the man in the gleaming black mask, his long cape whipping in the breeze, the hum of the thing in his hand, the sizzle of flesh that ended their screams-

He started back to the present to find that the others had gone. All but Erso, who was still sitting across from him with a drink in her hand, studying him intently, and Gerrera in his chair in the corner, watching with a face that was little more than an impassive mask.

     “There’s more to that story,” Erso said finally. It wasn’t a question.

Cassian didn’t answer for a very long time. She looked on the verge of giving up and leaving him alone with his thoughts when he finally spoke.

     “Eiban,” he said finally, his voice quiet, “I’m from Eiban.”

He saw Gerrera start visibly out of the corner of his eye.

     “Wasn’t that one of the dissenter worlds?” Erso’s brow furrowed. Saw had talked about them before. A handful of Republic worlds whose people had refused the Empire at first; most of them had been taught a lesson very quickly, about what happened when you tried to resist.

     “Yes, we fought back. At first.”

     “Didn’t the Emperor have the Eibani senator and her family executed?” she thought she remembered seeing a Holonet propaganda reel featuring dissenter worlds and what was done to them. Lasan had been featured, of course, because Lasan was always on the reel, but she thought she remembered a mention of Eiban, and their “traitorous” senator Eilan Willix.

     “Not quite all of us,” he replied after a moment, his voice quiet and a little strangled. She fell silent, eyes wide.

     “I was… difficult, back then,” he managed a weak smile, “Not so different from you, really. I was supposed to be the good son. Follow in her footsteps. Lead our people in the senate. But all I ever really wanted was to fly away from Eiban.”

Jyn couldn’t imagine a young Andor, shirking his duties and dreaming of flying away amongst the stars.

     “There was a junk shop I used to visit. The Lasat who ran it… I never knew his real name, everyone just called him Hawk… he took a liking to me, would let me tag along on short supply runs and do local deliveries. One evening, my mother was invited to a state dinner, supposedly to discuss terms with the Emperor’s representatives, but I refused to go. I told her it was crazy, to think that they would ever consider her demands. We had an argument, and I went on a run for the shop instead. By the time I got home, there were soldiers everywhere. I watched my parent’s executions from the crowd. They dragged Larissa and Jia, my sisters, away to a waiting shuttle before I could do anything. I tried to find them, but I still don’t know if they’re even…”

Jyn sucked in an involuntary breath. She knew what he couldn’t say; if they were still alive, they were probably slaves, shipped somewhere on the other side of the galaxy, given new names and held hostage as some Moff’s pillow girls. She would have rather been dead, if those were the choices before her.

     “How did you get away?” she asked after a moment.

     “I went back to the junk shop. Hawk took me in, kept me safe until he could arrange to get us both off-world. That was when I found Kaytoo, started reprogramming him,” Andor laughed harshly, “Hawk thought I was crazy. Said I’d get us both killed with that bucket of bolts. Until we ran into Imperials and Kaytoo saved our lives.”

The laugh died away as he continued, staring at his hands, “I didn’t understand why Hawk was helping me. He just kept telling me he was going to turn me in first chance he got. Every day, he’d say ‘you’re annoying human, but I suppose I’ll keep you around for today.’ Then I found out about Lasan. I suppose the Empire made us both orphans that day. He finally did leave me behind, but at least it was with a group of rebels. That’s how we got recruited, Kaytoo and I. But I never saw Hawk again.”

He stood up abruptly, forcing a weary smile, as if the loss of his family, and the friend who had saved him all those years ago, was not an aching, open wound, “So that’s my sob story. Fairly boring, as they go, wouldn’t you say, sir?”

Gerrera remained silent for what felt to Jyn like ages, but was probably only a few seconds. Then he heaved himself to his feet and limped across the floor to where Andor was standing. The younger man was surprised to see genuine empathy in his eyes.

     “Karelios,” he said slowly after a moment, “His real name was Harrel Karelios. Don’t know why everyone called him Hawk. He was an ornery piece of work, but he was a friend. I owe him my life. And do you know what he told me when I said that?”

He paused, but obviously did not expect an answer. A slow smile spread across his scarred face, “Hawk, he told me all about this idiot kid he’d met on Eiban once. He said that if someday that kid managed to grow up, and ever came knocking on my door looking for help, that he’d consider the debt paid if I gave it to him.”

With that, Gerrera turned and limped from the room, ignoring Cassian's stunned face and pausing in the hatch doorway only to glance back at Jyn, “I’ll help you. Both of you. But it isn’t going to be easy, or fun. And we’re all probably going to die. Just so long as you understand that.”

    “It’s for the right reasons,” it was Cassian who spoke, his voice hard, “You won’t find me faltering.”

    “Good," Saw's gaze was measuring, but there was a hint of amused approval in his tone, "Maybe Hawk wasn’t wrong about you. Tell the others we gear up at sunrise. If we’re really going to do this, we have work to do.”

( _There are those that say the universe gets set just a little more right every time a debt is paid back, especially if it’s a life debt. Maybe there’s something to that notion._ )


End file.
